Cowboys & Kisses
by WelshWitch1011
Summary: "Kissing is like drinking salted water. You drink and your thirst increases." A collection of one-shots through the years.


Hey guys, this is something I drafted a while ago, but have only just gotten around to writing. There'll be six chapters in all, all about a specific kiss in Dean Winchester's life - sadly I'm not one of them. I haven't forgotten about 'State Lines', and an update will be coming up in the next couple of days.

With thanks as always to Silverspoon for her awesome beta skills.

Reviews are always appreciated! *hint hint*

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"_You should not take a fellow eight years old and make him swear to never kiss the girls._"

**Robert Browning**

The solitary child cut a lonely figure against the swarms of youngsters running and whooping with delight across the school yard. Squinting against the unrelenting rays of the Georgia sunshine, he heaved a heavy sigh and busied himself with spying on the line of ants currently marching past his boot in single file. One after the other, never pausing, their tiny footfalls in almost perfect synchronicity.

Suddenly struck by an idea, he dug his hands into his shirt pocket, and produced the small magnifying glass he had been concealing since first period science class. He held the instrument over the line of insects and watched them closely, tongue worrying the corner of his lips as he stared at them in concentration.

The heat of the sun on his hand caused him to pause, and his mouth quirked into a brief, sad smile as he retracted the magnifying glass and stuffed it back into his pocket. He shrugged at the tiny creatures by way of apology, and continued to watch them cross the small patch of yard, oblivious to the threat they had momentarily avoided. He figured they'd done nothing to him, besides, when he allowed his childish thoughts to wander, Dean Winchester was more than a little afraid of fire.

The sound of footfalls nearby caused his head to snap up, and he narrowed his green eyes as he watched a small, blonde-haired girl swinging casually around the bar of a climbing frame. She averted her eyes demurely, pretending not to be looking at her classmate, and the scowl she received from the object of her attention halted any further steps in his direction.

Dean watched her closely, both intrigued and surprised by her attentions. They'd been in Georgia for less than a month, and being the new kid had lost it's appeal six states and seven elementary school's ago.

Children were less welcoming the older he had gotten, and so loneliness had become the better option. They'd be moving on soon anyway; they always did.

Even trying to make friends would have been near impossible, he had decided. The other kids weren't as smart as him, their fanciful minds were still occupied by ninja turtles and little league, whilst Dean knew all too well that the boogey man was real, and sometimes there really was a monster in the closet. He knew how to change the oil, fill a gas tank, cook macaroni cheese on a camping stove, and had walked the floor with a fretful toddler perhaps more than some parents had.

The safety of childhood had long gone for the little boy, as had the comfort of his mother's embrace. But he tried not to think about that, because his Dad said men weren't supposed to cry, and he desperately wanted to make his father proud.

So he and Sammy had each other, and that was the way it had always been. Dean knew instinctively that that's how it would somehow always remain.

"Hi."

A pair of deep, amber coloured eyes settled unnervingly on his, and as the little girl smiled, a tumble of blonde curls bounced on her shoulders.

"I'm Emily."

Dean weighed his options for only a moment, but he recalled enough of his mother's instructions on manners to politely reply to his new friend.

"Dean," he replied, managing a brief smile of acknowledgement as he squinted up at her, and Emily beamed in response.

A curious sensation struck his chest, and he made a mental note to maybe smile a little more often. Perhaps in a girl's direction. Just to see what happened.

"So, uh..." he began, trying desperately to think of something cool to say before the moment was gone and he had lost his new friend forever. He briefly contemplated showing her the magnifying glass, but he didn't trust her enough not to report his crime to the teacher, and he'd gotten into enough trouble at his last school as it was.

"Hey Em!"

Dean watched, crestfallen, as the girl turned toward the direction of her friends all assembled around a bench. Clearly torn between the two, Emily pondered her decision only briefly, and her lips twisted into a frown as she shot the new boy an apologetic shrug and began to skip back toward her classmates.

Dean's shoulder hunched over as he sighed, and he peered around the school yard as he tried to locate a less obvious spot for solitude - somewhere the other kids wouldn't notice him as an outcast.

A body suddenly clipped his arm, and he blinked in surprise to find Emily standing beside him once again, this time much closer and with a shy, bashful smile on her pretty face.

Leaning in, she quickly pressed a kiss to the stunned boy's cheek, before giggling to herself and clasping her hands behind her back.

"I gotta go." And with that, she scampered back to her friends, leaving Dean with an awe struck expression, as her soft southern drawl caused a blush to colour his cheeks.

His hand drifted toward his face, and Dean pressed his fingertips over the spot she had kissed. Smiling broadly, he wandered away from the other children and toward the nearest vacant bench.

He sat down against the warm wooden beam, and began to slowly re-evaluate the opinion he had formed of girls over the first eight years of his life.

Of course he told nobody about his first impromptu kiss, and still claimed indifference to girls as a species in general. But from that moment on, pretty blondes with eyes the colour of whiskey and lilting southern accents stole into his thoughts more often than he'd have liked; in-between monsters, motel rooms, and shotgun shells, of course.

23 years later and Dean Winchester still fondly recalls the little girl with the blonde hair and big smiles.

He can't quite remember her name.


End file.
